Staring At The Sun
by paperstorm
Summary: Part of my Deleted Scenes series, the tag for Nightshifter, 2x12. Wincest.


**Contains dialogue from the episode 'Nightshifter', it belongs to Eric Kripke and Ben Edlund  
**

**Part of my Deleted Scenes series. Full list of fics in reading order available on my profile page :)**

* * *

"Man, that has gotta be the kicker, straight up," Dean drawls as he stares into the maps tacked to the wall. "I mean, you tell that poor son of a bitch that - what did you say? Remand the tapes that he copied? Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation? That's messed up."

Sam puts the tape into the VCR and grabs the remote. "What, are you pissed at me or somethin'?"

"No," Dean says, sitting down at the table. "I just think it's a little creepy, how good of a fed you are. I mean, c'mon, we could've at least thrown the guy a bone. He did some pretty good leg-work, here."

Sam laughs humorlessly. "Mandroid?"

"Except for the mandroid part," Dean concedes. "I liked him. He's not that different from you and me. People think we're crazy."

"Yeah, except he's not a hunter, Dean!" Sam points out, as Dean pulls out a pen and starts tracing the sewer lines onto a piece of paper. "He's just a guy who stumbled onto something real. If he were to go up against this thing, he'd get torn apart. Better to stay in the dark and stay alive."

"Yeah, I guess."

Sam pauses the tape as the thing's eyes go white as it looks directly into the camera, and huffs irritably. "Shapeshifter. Just like back in St. Louis. Same retinal reaction to video."

"Eyes flare at the camera. I hate those freakin' things," Dean grumbles.

"You think I don't?"

"Well yeah, but one of 'em didn't turn into you and frame you for murder."

He has a point, but Sam still hates them. It took him a long time to get over all the things the one they hunted in St. Louis said to him while it was wearing Dean's skin. On some level, Sam already knew Dean resented him for leaving, for going to school and for having a life that Dean never got to have, but it hurt that much more to hear it right from Dean's lips, even if it wasn't really Dean underneath them.

"Well, look, if this Shifter's anything like the one we killed in Missouri …" Sam starts.

"Then Ronald's right," Dean finishes. "Alright, they like to lair up underground, preferably the sewer. All the robberies have been connected so far, right?"

"Yeah."

"Through the, uh, sewer main layout." He lays the paper on top of the map, lining up his tracing with the streets. "There's one more bank lined up on that sewer main."

"You think it's already been there?" Sam asks.

Dean shrugs. "Maybe. Worth a look, anyway. See if any of the employees' eyes light up on the security footage." He circles the bank on the map and then puts it up on the wall next to the others.

Sam reaches into his bag and pulls the tie out that he'd been wearing earlier. "What d'you think? FBI again? Techs from the security company?"

Dean thinks about it for a second, and then decides, "Second one. Couple'a suits show up, before you know it the whole place is buzzing about it. If the Shifter's already there it might split."

"You just like gettin' to wear coveralls," Sam jokes, and Dean grins.

"I mean, it's a perk. That's all m'sayin'."

"You do realize this is crazy dangerous, right?" Sam points out. "This place is already crawling with cops from the first two robberies, and now we're about to walk right into the bank that's third on the list. And our record isn't exactly squeaky clean."

"_Your_ record isn't exactly squeaky clean," Dean corrects with a smirk. "I'm dead."

"No you aren't. Remember Baltimore?"

Dean frowns for a second, and then he smiles a little. "Oh, yeah. I'd actually forgotten about that."

Sam shakes his head in disbelief but he can't help laughing a little. "Look, we just – we gotta be careful. That's all."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean rolls his eyes. "C'mon. Let's go kill the hell outta that Shifter."

"Just … don't let it turn into you, okay?" Sam says. He doesn't quite manage to keep a small waver out of his voice. "'Cause I can't. Not again."

Dean considers him for a moment, frowning deeply, like he's seeing right through Sam in the way that only he can. "It … the one in St. Louis. It did something to you, didn't it? I asked you, the next day, and you wouldn't tell me."

Sam remembers that. He also remembers them fighting, and then he remembers snapping and kissing Dean for the first time since before he left for Palo Alto, so there were more important things on his mind that day than telling Dean everything the Shifter said to him. He shakes his head. "It didn't do anything. Other then tie me up. It just … said some stuff. Stuff I already knew, I guess, but it sucked to actually hear it said out loud. Especially since it had your face and your voice."

"Like what?" Dean asks, all big-brother concern, and Sam sighs. He didn't mean he actually wanted them to talk about this. It would just upset them both, and they have a job to do.

"It isn't important. Let's just go, alright?" He takes a few steps in the direction of the door, but Dean stops him with a hand on his arm.

"Sammy," he says softly, but Sam shakes his head.

"Later, okay? Clock's ticking. We gotta go."

* * *

"We are so screwed," Dean says, and Sam doesn't have any idea _what_ to say. He just clenches his jaw and tries to keep from screaming.

They are in so, _so _far over their heads this time. It's one thing to have their names on a wanted list, but it's another thing entirely to have an actual FBI agent who's sole responsibility is to track them down and see that they spend the rest of their lives in prison. Sam really doesn't know what they're going to do anymore.

Dean drives for a long time. He takes alleys and back roads out of town in case there's an APB out on the Impala – which, Sam knows, there definitely is by now – and then he gets onto the highway and just drives until the sun sets. He doesn't speak the whole time, and Sam doesn't either, because there's nothing to say. Dean's right, they are completely, totally screwed, and nothing either of them could say would make the situation any better. Sam's sort of numb. He's never felt this paralyzed before. He's so used to the two of them being anonymous, swooping in to some town and hunting down the monster and then leaving again without a trace. The only people who ever remember them are the people they save, and most of them wouldn't ever tell anyone what really happened because no one would believe them. But now there are pictures of them and information about them and a price on their heads, literally, and Sam doesn't know what the hell they're going to do about it.

He wasn't paying attention, he doesn't know which direction they're heading or how far they've gone when Dean finally pulls off the road and into a field far enough that the car won't be seen from the highway. Sam doesn't have to ask to know they'll be spending the night here, sleeping in the Impala like they haven't been able to do comfortably since Sam was about twelve. He doesn't exactly _want_ to sleep in the car, but it's a good idea. At least Dean's face will be all over the news by now, possibly Sam's too, and they can't risk a motel owner recognizing them and calling the cops.

Dean gets out of the car and starts stripping out of the SWAT uniform, and only then does Sam realize he's still wearing the one he stole off the taller of the two agents they knocked out and left in a closet. He climbs out of the passenger's seat, stretches his cramped muscles, and then starts pulling at the straps that are holding all the black material in place. He slaps at mosquitoes on his bare legs before he manages to tug some clothes out of his duffel, and then when he's done he joins Dean on the hood of the Impala. He's just sitting there, staring into the darkness with a blank look in his eyes that pretty accurately portrays how Sam's feeling too, so Sam sits next to him and blows out a heavy breath.

"We're fucked," Dean says, after a long moment of silence. "And not in the good way."

"Yeah," Sam answers, because he doesn't know what else to say. "What are we gonna do?"

Dean laughs, but it comes out flat and bitter. "I have no idea."

"No, really," Sam pushes. "We can't just hide out here forever, we need a game plan."

"Well, I don't have one."

Sam sighs in frustration and pushes himself up off the car. "This is serious, Dean. We keep playing it fast and loose like this, one of these days we're gonna get into trouble we can't get out of! And then what? We rot in a jail cell? Like freakin' criminals?"

"We are criminals," Dean points out dryly, but Sam is _so_ not in the mood for Dean's sense of humor right now.

"That isn't even a little bit funny."

"It isn't a joke."

"You wanna know the worst part? I knew this was gonna happen! I _knew _it, and I still let us walk right into it! " Sam storms. "We should never have gone to that bank, we should never have taken that damn job in the first place!"

"What else were we supposed to do?" Dean asks loudly. "Just ignore it? Let more people die? We're hunters, this is what we do!"

Sam glares. "Don't give me that. I know what we are! Doesn't mean we should go around diving head first into bank heists when we're already on the FBI's most wanted list! What if we hadn't gotten away, huh? The trick we pulled with the uniforms was a million to one shot, shit like that usually only works in cartoons! What the hell would we have done if they caught us? That Henriksen guy probably has enough to have us thrown in a maximum security prison for ten lifetimes! How're we supposed to help people if we're locked up?!"

"Why are you yelling at me?" Dean demands, his eyes intense and his jaw clenched. "Yeah, we're fucked, I get it! But it isn't my fault!"

Sam stays angry for just another second or two, and then it lessens just a bit and he sighs. "I … I know it isn't. I'm sorry, I just … damn it," he swears, turning away and rubbing his hands over his face. "I'm not mad at you, I'm just mad. I hate this. I feel like we're backed into a corner, here, and I don't know what to do."

"I don't either."

Dean sounds like he hates himself for it, for not being able to fix this problem, and Sam frowns and goes back to sit next to him.

"I'm sorry," he says again, but Dean just shakes his head.

For another few minutes, they descend into silence again. Sam listens to the crickets and both tries and fails not to think about how much shit they're in. They've had their fair share of run-ins with the law, but never like this. It makes Sam sick to his stomach to even consider all the things that could happen if they get caught.

"You wanna tell me about that Shifter in Missouri now?" Dean asks eventually, and Sam sighs again. He should have known that was coming.

"Seems so stupid, after everything that happened on this one," he answers, hoping Dean will let it go but still knowing that he won't.

"There's nothin' we can do about any of that right now. So talk to me."

"It was just … it doesn't matter," Sam insists. "It was a long time ago. Why do you wanna know so bad?"

"Because you're starting to freak me out." Dean glances briefly over at Sam, and there's worry and concern written all over his face again. "You were alone with a monster that had my face, I … it could've done anything to you, and it would've been like _me_ doing it …"

He trails off, but something clicks in Sam's brain. "God, no, it was nothing like that," he says quickly. "It … it just said you had issues with me. That you resented me for going to school, because you never got to. But I – like I said, I knew all that already. So it doesn't matter."

He purposely leaves out the bits the Shifter said about Dean's own abandonment issues, and that it told him he should appreciate Dean more. It makes Sam feel lower than dirt, even a year later, to think Dean feels like he isn't good enough to keep Sam around this time. Sam knows his brother has issues that run way deeper than even he knows, but that doesn't mean he's okay with it. He hates it. He wishes Dean could see himself the way Sam sees him.

"I …" Dean exhales heavily. "I don't."

"It's okay," Sam tells him. "I know you do. The thing was pulling thoughts right out of your head, it wasn't making stuff up. And it's … it was right. I did get to go to school, have friends, have a_ life_, and you never did. That wasn't fair."

Dean shakes his head just minutely, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. "It wasn't like that, Sammy."

"Wasn't like what?"

"I never wanted any of that. Not really. I mean, I wanted it like wanting to … I don't know, be a billionaire. It'd be sweet if it happened, but I never expected it to happen so I never felt like I got short-changed."

Sam nods. "So where's the resentment come from, then?"

Dean looks at him again, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes searching, like he's trying to decide whether or not to tell Sam whatever he's thinking. Then he looks back down at his hands, and his voice is sad and regretful when he says, "I missed you."

Sam closes his eyes for a moment against a wave of fresh emotion. "I missed you too. Every single day."

"I didn't …" Dean pauses, his throat clicking as he swallows. "I thought I might never see you again. Thought you were gonna graduate, get a job, get married. Coach little-league or take up fishing or whatever it is normal people do. Go off and have this fantastic life without me."

As much as he tries, Sam can't stop the tears from welling in his eyes while Dean talks. He isn't sure why Dean's finally opening up about all of this, but it hurts deep in his chest to hear the words come out of his brother's mouth.

"And I didn't get it, y'know? You never even told me you were applying to any schools. And you and me were doin' our thing, and it was like one day everything was great and then the next day you announce you got in and you're leaving. And then you were just gone, and I didn't know why." He clears his throat and reaches behind himself to scratch at the back of his neck like he does when he's uncomfortable. Sam tries not to look at him too much so he doesn't make it worse. "I could never stop wondering if there was something I could'a done differently that would've made you stay. I know you told me it was just something you had to do, that you weren't leavin' 'cause'a me, 'cause you didn't wanna be with me anymore. And I tried to believe you, but it still … felt like …"

Sam knows what it felt like, he doesn't need Dean to say it. Getting away from hunting for a while _was_ something he needed to do, and even after everything that happened because of it he still doesn't totally regret it, but it nearly tore him apart having to leave Dean too. He remembers what a mess he was at first. He was completely heartbroken, in a way he'd never been before and hasn't been since.

He takes a chance and leans over, kissing Dean's shoulder and then leaning his head on it. "I'm so sorry," he whispers.

Dean shakes his head again, bringing his arm up to drape it over Sam's shoulder. Sam slides his arm around Dean's waist and shifts in just a little closer. "Doesn't matter. You're back. And hey, looks like we're gonna be sharing a cell for the rest of our lives anyway, so I'll be sick of you again soon enough."

Sam can't help laughing, even though it really isn't funny because of how close it is to the truth. There's more he wants to say, more he wants Dean to say too, but when Dean starts making jokes it usually means he's finished talking, so Sam lets it go. It still cuts him up inside to know it's his fault that Dean has so much trouble trusting people, but Sam already promised himself a long time ago that he'll never leave Dean behind again. So if there's nothing he can say to make Dean believe that, he'll just have to show it instead.

It's been a really long time since the two of them could fit in the Impala's backseat, even if it is relatively spacious for a car, but Sam pulls Dean there anyway, kissing him gently and tugging at the clothes he's only been wearing for the last twenty minutes or so. Dean goes easily, kissing Sam back and pushing Sam's shirt up and over his head. He kisses down Sam's neck, licking over his fluttering pulse and then stopping to nip at the meat of Sam's shoulder. He presses Sam into the side of the car, leaning against him while he licks his way into Sam's mouth, pushing his thigh up into Sam's crotch and Sam goes from zero to hard so fast it makes his head spin. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam keeps expecting Dean to stop affecting him like that one day, but so far it hasn't happened and at this point, Sam thinks maybe it never will.

Like it always seems to happen after a close-call, Sam's heart is beating into his throat and he grabs at any bit of Dean he can get, desperate for the warmth of his brother's skin to remind him that they're both still alive, for another day at least. Sam's all for letting Dean fuck him into the leather seat like Dean not-so-secretly loves so much, but Dean doesn't seem to be able to wait that long and Sam's okay with that too. He lies down on the seat and Dean lies on top of him, kissing him insistently and rocking his hips down into Sam's so their cocks slide together. He moves slowly but it still feels frantic, chasing after the only thing that has a hope of making either of them feel any better.

Dean swirls his tongue around in Sam's mouth and Sam pulls his knees up toward his chest so their bodies are pressed as closely together as they can be, moaning as the head of Dean's cock moves against Sam's and sends electric sparks through Sam's body. He kisses Dean until he can't breathe and even then he doesn't stop, digging his nails into Dean's back and shivering when Dean growls and rolls his hips harder. Sam holds his orgasm back because he wants Dean to come first, but he lets it wash over him after Dean grunts and floods the space between them with sticky-wet heat. It's quick and dirty and not satisfying in the same way as it is when they take their time, but it's what Sam needed, and it's what Dean needed too if the way he nuzzles under Sam's jaw and whispers his name is any indication. They'll probably do it again later, for real, so Sam's not too worried. They have all night after all, he thinks with only the smallest twinge in his chest when he remembers _why_ they're stuck spending the night here. For now, he just wraps his arms around Dean's back so Dean won't pull away. He can feel Dean's heart beating, and Dean's heavy and solid on top of him, and for the first time in almost twenty-four hours, Sam feels safe.


End file.
